Jerrika flew. 

Why did she feel such terrible anger toward a man she'd known and trusted all her life? It wasn't like her. They were like siblings, she thought strangely, fighting the way Galantyne often did with Kara. She shouldn't feel the way she did, but ever since the revelation of her wings and her growing mastery of telepathy, she felt a strange hostility also.

A sickening thought now entered her awareness. What if she had been manipulated? What if the image in her Zalez had not been Ondrea at all, but Adara Sebille?

She pictured Quildor's witch in her final few days, lost power, lost knowledge, grabbing at anything she could to keep her in Quildor's good graces, but he had already discarded her. And she knew it. No matter how many books of spells, or vials of poison she claimed to have, he had no use for her. Surely she didn't have the ability to create such an illusion in Jerrika's mind. She discarded that thought. Korlon was wrong. 

She felt her stomach growl and narrowed her eyes. As if on cue, her eyes sharpened, her senses clarified and the tiniest movement of prey seemed to jump out at her. A pheroon would be good eating, what other game could she scare up? 

Swooping down and using razor sharp talons to pierce the unsuspecting animal gave her the greatest unexpected pleasure she'd ever felt. She knew she could eat it. She would have to land and start a fire and cook it. 

She wondered about starting a fire, and knew if she was too close to the trail when she did it, she risked being seen. She flew higher and higher, looking for a place she could hide and satisfy her sudden craving.

It took at least an hour, and her stomach was protesting, as were her wings. Perhaps Korlon had known something about Harpyiae strength after all. She was tired and needed a break. A clearing presented itself and Jerrika took it, eyeing the little pheroon with the intense desire to rip its head off and drink its blood, or eat it raw, feathers and fur and all. That thought made a part of her feel ill at its contemplation, while at the same time, she couldn't deny it, and in one deft motion, transferred the dead animal from talon to fingers and did indeed rip the head off. Digging her fingers under the exposed fur at the neck, she quickly, and systematically tore its skin off, and then while looking around for anything to build a fire out of, she found herself licking the juices off her fingers. A rational side of her knew this wasn't right, knew she shouldn't be doing this, that it went against who and what she was. But that side wasn't winning the war against her hunger at the moment, and not finding any kindling close by, and the rudimentary knowledge of fire-making she'd ascertained in survival training years before certainly escaped her now. She gave in to the basest of longings and dug her teeth in.

The raw pleasure of eating was done all too soon, and night was coming on. Rather than making her feel clear or normal, eating made her even hungrier. She took to flight once more and found the added use of bird eyes helped her find even more prey. She didn't even stop to think about a fire, but while in mid-air, began to feed. After five more of these pheroons and a strange small bird, Jerrika felt like she could rest, and the gnawing bitterness in her stomach was at least drowning her conscience enough to find a few rocks to lay her head on. She slept.

******

Mathilde came to the rise. "I was hoping we were preparing to go home."

Ondrea gave her a frustrated scowl. "Don't you listen to anything I tell you? We have to call the Council of Ladies, Mathilde! We must get each and every one of them to revoke their kai and embrace the planetary gift of Zalez, which will enable Talisman to heal the toxic air. Our situation on the surface is temporary, Mathilde! Without kai, we...."

"Others have been born without kai, Ondrea." Mathilde said haughtily. "And they have survived."

"But to do as the planet instructs us and become completely compatible, we must also...." She was about to say, embrace  Zalez in its entirety. That was true, but hadn't the the unmelded people of Valdemar done just that? 

Except for the Harpyiae.

 Why was the planet taking the girls and changing them if compatibility was its sole purpose? The answer came to her. In keeping the balance, something that was stolen had to be given back. The kai were stolen, the girls were given. It was the only way to keep balance. But it was the worst way for the humans living here.

Ondrea's eyes drifted to the dragon. Demor was sitting on Mathilde's bare palm, her neck curled around and her snout tucked under a wing, resting. But her eyes were trained carefully on Ondrea's. "Also what, Ondrea Taan?"

Her mind had jumped ahead. "As many people that have been given kai must give them back for Talisman to have the power necessary to heal the air." She realized in calm resignation. "If they don't, or we fail in getting them to revoke enough kai, we will all be assimilated as the Harpyiae are. We will eventually become...." She could see the image in her mind's eye. An image perhaps Demor was giving her. But she could see the females becoming Harpyiae, and the males.... Dragons... incompatible. This was nature's answer to survival.

"Become what, Ondrea Taan?"

"Become new species, compatible with the planet, but incompatible with each other. We as humans will cease to exist." A deep sadness engulfed her at the thought of ceasing to be human. 

"Cease?" Mathilde's tone was unsure.

Demor's was not. "You must not fail. Do what you said you were going to do and gather the Ladies."

"My Zalez isn't developed enough to reach them all. Occasionally, I hear Kara or Jerrika's thoughts, a few times I have felt Pellanor and Avarona."

"You must work harder. Train yourself. Use the power inside you."

Ondrea focused her attention clearly, picturing in her mind the image of Jerrika as she'd last seen her, dark eyes ready for flight. "Jerrika."

"Mother." Ondrea sensed the girl was sleeping, and was dismayed at how primitive her response felt. 

"Jerrika!" She demanded. "Wake up!" What she saw from Jerrika's mind was the image of her talons ripping the head off a helpless pheroon as her teeth tore into its flesh. The craving she felt was hostile, not human.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Jerrika, follow the sound of my voice. Come to me." She felt the girl trying to fight her way back through waves of unreasonable hunger, to the place where she'd deviated. "Come to me, child."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to fly to Sentinel, go to Galantyne and find Pellanor, Sossana and Avarona and bring them to me here. It is imperative. Jerrika, you must do this, and you must not fail. Do you understand me? On the way, you will find Kara. Send her to me here."

The familiar names spoken with such authority caused Jerrika's mind to clarify. "Yes, Mother." 

******

Quildor squinted against the glare of the sun, wishing he'd been smart enough to travel at night. If it weren't for the miserable attacks of the nocturnal Shadow Eaters who dragged off his assimilated minions, he would. Each night the Shadow Eaters that had followed them gathered more. His men, who had assimilated Shadow Eaters and killed them were being systematically taken. Revenge?

 The auditorium folk were left, but-- he shook his head in annoyance and glanced back at the troops now resting against the rocky cliff they were traversing—the auditorium folk were drifters, unreliable. Numbers, yes, suited to scavenging roots and berries, looking for water, and catching pheroons for food. They were more concerned with their own stomachs than with his war.

He shaded his eyes with his hand. It had been five days. Five days of hell. The majority of his army were these stupid villagers, stupid auditorium folk and his minions. Had he not kept them all safe? Had he not given them all a way to survive on the surface? Had he not provided every one of their needs? Why were they so stupid?

His Quarso... he glanced to where they were still posted, keeping guard on the stupid minions who were at least his best shot at an actual infantry. They had spaced themselves out over the nearly five hundred men, and there were now only the five of them, where once there had been nine.  

Where were Rion, Jayce and Terryn? 

He closed his eyes, and sighed, hearing a screech above. No one bothered to look up. Was it an edible bird? The screech had definitely come from above. He shaded his eyes and thought he glimpsed a circle in the air, a circle of giant birds.

Quildor grabbed his sword, flipped the end and pulled out the scope he'd invented.

A low murmur was heard among the men, starting with the furthest away and coming closer. Quildor slammed his scope shut and slid it angrily into the butt end of his sword handle. He strode toward the nearest group of men lounging against the red rock cliff. 

Quildor felt his heart actually skip a beat and then the air rush into his lungs. Above him on the ledge, close enough to see the beaded dew on her enticing pink lips, stood the most incredibly beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

*****